Twirl
by fortheloveofbuttercups
Summary: Missing scene from 5x11 episode "Swan Song": What happened between the time Emma lost Killian and her decision to rescue him from the Underworld? One-shot.


A/N: It's been a while since I've written any fanfic, but this little idea wouldn't leave my head. Hope you enjoy!

I own nothing. All characters belong to Adam, Eddy, and ABC.

* * *

The door closed softly behind her, her hand lingering on the knob. They said she could stay with them tonight. Told her she shouldn't be alone.

But she was good alone, right? She'd been alone most of her life. It was familiar, comfortable.

Or it used to be.

Standing in the foyer of her home ( _their_ home), however, felt foreign, wrong. She hadn't wanted to be here, not like this. It was never supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be here, too.

But, in a strange way, he _was_ there and had been all along.

The newspaper he and Henry used to find this house, this "promise for the future," still lay on the dining table. The telescope stood watch by the window. It still had a perfect view of his sea. Liam's ring (no, _his_ ring) was still on a chain around her neck.

She grasped it absentmindedly. Her mother had noticed the habit lately, but never said anything. After all, Snow knew what it meant. She used to twirl a ring around her finger like that once, too.

She couldn't cry anymore. Not that she didn't want to, but she physically couldn't. Her body had worn down, exhausted from not only being a Dark One, but also losing him. This loss was unlike anything she'd felt before. It left a gaping hole that suffocated her.

The floor was cold as she collapsed. The tears wouldn't flow right. It's like her mind couldn't decide if it should panic, scream, or hyperventilate. Fight or flight was conflicted. He was the one who usually helped settle that debate. But now…

It all happened so fast.

"We don't have much time, love."

"I don't want to lose you."

"It's okay."

"I love you."

And he was gone. She supposed she should be used to it. People left her life all the time.

But this was different. _He_ was different.

He was her beacon in the dark. He was the voice of reason when her brain couldn't sort it all out. He was her support system. He didn't realize it yet, but he was becoming a father to her son. He was supposed to be her husband (at some point). He was supposed to be the father of her future children.

He was the love of her life.

This couldn't be the end of their story. Their love couldn't be a tragic, cautionary tale.

Her mind raced. So many thoughts, emotions, feelings. She clutched at her chest. Her heartbeat quickened. It felt as though her heart was being ripped apart, shredded and scattered in the wind. She couldn't breathe. Was she suffocating? Drowning? Burning? Was this some side effect of being the Dark One?

Or worse. Was this what it felt like to die of a broken heart?

 _Twirl, twirl, twirl._

Then, she realized.

Her heart.

Was it possible?

She sat up slowly, processing her rapid thoughts.

Cora tried to remove it, to no avail.

"It can't be stolen."

(If people only knew he'd stolen it a long time ago. Of course, she'd never admit that, at least not to anyone but him.)

 _Twirl, twirl, twirl._

But maybe, just maybe…

She rose and walked to the sofa. As she sat, she took his ring off the chain, a completely involuntary motion.

She had no idea how long she sat there, sorting her thoughts, twirling his ring. But she laid down at some point during the night, all the while thinking and processing. Formulating. Seeing every solution, every situation, every plan.

She twirled the ring. She rolled it between her fingers. She allowed herself to slip it on her fingertip, but no farther.

 _Twirl, twirl, twirl._

This was the best (and only) option.

It could work. It would work.

She didn't sleep. She supposed she was used to it by now. And, honestly, it was probably for the best. There'd be nightmares anyway. Besides, she couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in that bed alone. She hadn't set foot in the bedroom yet and didn't want to, not without him.

She never dared to slip the ring on her finger. He should be the one to do it.

So, she twirled it. It was comforting; a tangible reminder of who he is and what he's overcome.

He'll come home. She'll do whatever it takes to fight to bring him home. To this home. _Their_ home. To their future.

After all, how many times had he told her?

He's a survivor.

 _Twirl, twirl, twirl._


End file.
